


Daddy

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [6]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Coming In Pants, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Grinding, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “You don’t need to be ashamed.” Joseph whispers, teases. “There is little shame in it. People find whatever they need in me. A leader, a preacher, a pillar of strength. That you find something different is...a refreshing change.”





	Daddy

It starts, as most mistakes do in Rook’s life, because he’s being an asshole. There is something to be said for the divine punishment that seems to fall directly onto his head if he disobeys any of the lessons his mom tried to bash into his thick skull as a kid. He can still hear her in his mind, reminding him to be nice, always use his manners, act like he was raised by humans and not wolves. 

He’s pretty sure she’d say he deserved this. If he’d been able to get in contact with her since everything went to hell. 

Dutch, for his part, has seemed to take on the role as the gleefully vindicated parental figure. Though it should be noted some of Rook’s responses to Dutch’s teasing laughter are things he would never, in a million years and at _gunpoint_ , say to his beloved mother.

In his defense--what little defense it actually is--he was _joking_ when all this shit started. He was hot and tired and bleeding and hadn’t had a good meal or sleep in long enough to agitate him. It could have been literally anyone radioing him to complain and Rook would have verbally eviscerated them. It just so happened that then it was one of the very rare times when Joseph bothered to call. 

And Rook’s shitty attitude and general disdain for humanity at that point, let alone insane cult leaders who touched him way too much and acted far too kind for someone whose people were literally always trying to kill him on sight, got the better of him.

Which leads him here. Sitting in some abandoned house that is probably the best thing in his life right now because the blankets still smell vaguely of detergent and there’s some not-stale chips in the pantry, staring down Joseph Seed. Off his island, out of hiding, and slowly advancing on where Rook had been trying to take a relaxing nap.

“You seem stressed.”

“I’d say stressed is a fair term for it.” Rook grumbles, still inching backward. “Pretty sure my heart rate right now would register as a panic attack.”

“You don’t need to be afraid.” Joseph’s lips curl in a smile and Rook knows what’s coming before he opens them once more. “Daddy’s here. I’ll take care of you.”

“Please just kill me.”

“I wasn’t the one who started all this.” Joseph reminds him, climbing up onto the bed as Rook approaches something close to actual literal panic. “You gave me the title. Most of my faithful simply call me the Father, you were the one to complicate it.”

“I will call you anything you like if you--” Rook yelps when his back hits the headboard, no more room left the backpedal, and spits out the next few words while holding his hands up in front of him. “If you please go away and suddenly develop mutism, please and fucking thank you.”

“Does it not excite you? The word has certain...connotations. We’d both be fools to ignore them.” Joseph pauses, tips his head. 

A bit like Boomer except not nearly as cute because he’s backing Rook into a corner.

“Do you _want_ a Daddy, Rook?”

Rook absolutely does _not_ feel a twinge of heat low in his stomach. He does not feel the beginnings of an inkling of sexual attraction just because Joseph purrs his words and won’t stop staring. It doesn’t matter that he’s called lovers that before, purposefully sought out older men with firm words and firmer hands to make him feel good. He doesn’t feel that way because this is Joseph fucking Seed and he’s currently the reason Rook’s entire life is a fucking disaster.

Fuck.

“You’re such a bastard.” Rook shifts his hands, watches Joseph track them as he tucks them carefully over the barest hint of a bulge. “Fuck off. Go away and take all your crazy with you.”

“You don’t need to be ashamed.” Joseph whispers, teases. “There is little shame in it. People find whatever they need in me. A leader, a preacher, a pillar of strength. That you find something different is...a refreshing change.”

“I don’t want a _Daddy_ ,” Rook hisses, “and if I fucking did it’s; one, none of your business in the _slightest_ and two, you wouldn’t be the one I’d pick. Anyone would be better. Hell, _Jacob_ would make for a better fucking choice.”

“Jacob would be rough.” Joseph muses, sliding ever closer until Rook can’t close his legs because Joseph’s between them. “I don’t think that’s what you need. You require a firm hand, certainly, but not a brutal one. I would be gentler by far. And you can lie all you want, your mind and body seem to be in disagreement at the moment.”

Rook’s half tempted to punch Joseph when an iron grip encircles his wrist and pulls. Wants to haul off and smash those stupid yellow glasses right off his face. But Joseph leans in and in, tugging his other hand free until Rook’s exposed, pins him by his wrists to the headboard Rook’s currently trying to sink back into. His knees hit Joseph’s hips when they reflexively try to close, trapping him like Rook would any other lover that had slipped between his thighs, and he twists his head to the side with a scowl when Joseph goes in for one of his ever-too-frequent forehead touches. 

“Don’t.”

“Be _good_.” Joseph’s voice is ice, a snap that has Rook dragging his head around on instinct before it softens. “There. Just like that. You _want_ to be good. Want to behave for someone strong enough to _make_ you behave. You needn’t hide these desires.”

“I don’t--” 

Rook can’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t know what he doesn’t want. Because he’s hard now, painfully pressing against his zipper, and Joseph’s got a thigh tucked in just close enough he could rock against it. If he wanted. If he chose to make that move. 

“Be a good boy.” Joseph urges, soft and gentle now. “Behave for me, and I will give you everything you want.”

“Why?”

“Because I am here to give you what you need. You are so much more than you think. And if this is how it must be, I accept that.”

“I’m not some pity fuck.” Rook snarls, hushed instantly with a sharp sound and a narrowing of Joseph’s eyes.

“I did not say you were. You are so intent upon us being enemies. If you would simply _listen_ and stop being a brat, you would see.”

Rook does. Stops fighting for a split second, gathers what little brain cells aren’t being re-directed to how close Joseph is, how sweet his breath smells, how he fits neatly between Rook’s legs. Joseph’s flushed, a line of heat across his cheeks, body tense and almost twitching, shifting back and forth. And he’s hard too, ruining the line of his jeans.

He wants this. 

Rook lifts his gaze, eyes wide and probably more than a little shocked, and is stunned further when Joseph laughs. Soft, gentle, amused and no malice hiding under the sound for once in his life.

“I told you. I’m not immune to the sins of man. Even I--well.” Joseph tips his head, regards him closely, fingers flexing on Rook’s wrists. “You are a temptation.”

“Daddy,” Rook breathes, tries for a tease and it falls flat when his voice is just a touch too light, too needy. Something sparks in Joseph’s eyes, dangerously dark.

“Yes. I will be, if you allow it. Will be everything you need and everything you never knew you wanted.”

It sounds like paradise. Sounds like a promise to beat all others. And Rook is ashamed to say...it’s the promise that might finally break him. 

Good news is...he doesn’t think he’s the only one who’s going to walk away from this shattered.

“I don’t want to--I can’t--”

“You have allowed the Resistance to poison your mind against us. Against my family and our purpose. Have let them lead you astray.” Joseph seems to get angry at the mere thought, brow down low before his voice eases, turns syrup sweet and soft. “I’m not angry with you. You’ve misbehaved, and punishment will come in due time but...you will find your place at my side. I know this now. Anything before was just...rebellion.”

“What should I--”

“Find your pleasure.” Joseph presses his thigh forwards pointedly. “Accept this. You have fought it for so long and you needn’t any longer.” 

Rook obeys, best he can. Lifts his hips and grinds until his breath is catching in his throat. Until his hips are sloppy, moving more out of need than adhering to any sort of rhythm. It’s almost overwhelming, Joseph’s unbroken gaze keeping him pinned in place as steadily as his hands do. Rook’s never had someone _watch_ him so closely before, never felt splayed wide and pulled open just by the gaze of a lover.

“D-Daddy, I can’t--”

“You can,” Joseph assures him, leaning forwards until they could almost kiss but denying Rook by bare inches. “You can and you will. You want so badly to be good for me. You just have to accept it.”

Rook comes a few moments later, hips aching, thighs tensed to the point of pain. It’s rough, like Joseph yanked it from him with his bare hands, and Rook finds himself sobbing “Daddy” over and over as he shudders through it. Joseph lets him wail, lets him hiccup his way through the orgasm, before he descends in the aftermath.

Like a predator finally wearing down its prey enough to pounce.

He lets go of Rook’s wrists to seize his face, pressed in tight enough it rubs Rook’s jeans against his over-sensitive cock and has him gasping into Joseph’s mouth. He kisses like he’s _starved_ , famished for it, settling into a meal after decades of going hungry. Rook lets himself get lost in it all, forgetting about everything for the moment except the weight of Joseph bearing him down and the slick press of his tongue.

“You are _perfect_ for me, you know that?” Joseph mutters breathlessly, against his lips, like he can’t bear to pull away even to talk. “To watch you--to _hear_ you. It is a gift greater than any others I have received.”

“You didn’t--” Rook’s never let partners go unsatisfied, one hand pawing at where Joseph is still hard behind his jeans. 

“I will. You’ll be a good boy for Daddy, won’t you? Spread your legs and let me worship at your altar?”

Rook tips his head up, like he’s sinking underwater. Drags in a breath. He feels like he’s being Blissed, vision wonky as Joseph sets about marking up his throat with sharp teeth and the soothing swipe of his tongue. This is a line clearly drawn, one he’s not certain he’ll be able to cross back over once it’s done. Joseph is asking for much more than just a title and a quick fuck.

And yet…

“Rook? Will you be good for me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna know what's coming next? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
